Running with an idea
by La coeur a ses raisons
Summary: Meg has a brain wave, and decides to write it. A teacher catches her, and has a few thoughts of her own. AU. VM and LE are forced together, by the 'powers that be' at Neptune High. Eventual LoVe.
1. Chapter 1

Meg was relaxing n her sofa, watching Runaway Bride. A stray thought crossed her mind. She nearly laughed out loud.

The movie was one of her favorites; it was sweet, and romantic… and being a marshmallow in-and-out, she loved the chemistry between Geere and Roberts. She didn't care that nearly all great love stories were based on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice and Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. She just loved the sappy plots and line that rendered a new twist on an old story.

As the chick-flick continued, she kept laughing, knowing how very insulted the two people she thought of would be, if only they could know what she was thinking.

The credits rolled, and the cheerleader still couldn't get the thoughts out of her head. She laughed again, trying to crowd it out with thoughts of other movies: White Christmas, You've Got Mail, Love Comes Softly… but the first idea kept gaining ground.

She dressed for exercise, put in her i-pod, and tried jogging for a few hours. But the images of the two people playing Ike and Maggie kept popping up in her mind, making her giggle… and causing a few of Neptune's residents to stare at her curiously.

She made it back home, and threw herself into the shower. Half an hour later as she emerged, dripping wet, she bit her lip. The ideas, the thoughts kept pouring in.

Meg groaned, and threw her hands up to Heaven. "Fine!" she exclaimed, laughing, "Fine, I'll write it down, geez!"

The cheerleader dressed in lounge-clothes, and dragged open a new notebook, clicking on a gel pen.

**Honest, I do know where I'm going with this. Please review if you like... even if you don't like. Toasts and roasts are just as fun, for me. **

**-Coeur**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I keep forgetting! **

**Okay, VM is owned by Rob Thomas. I just put the people in a different universe, and let the good times roll!**

**-Coeur.**

Neptune High was just as boring class-wise as ever. Apparently, the new English teacher, Cristen Harding, hadn't received the memo yet that High Schoolers come with a built-in defense mechanism against learning: Apathy.

In English, Meg was busily writing in her notebook. To all outward appearances, she was taking an insane amount of notes. This was belied, however, by the fact that the teacher was busy lecturing the class about screen-plays, and how far the art had come since Shakespeare's day… and the fact that the remainder of the class was comatose.

"Meg?" the woman said brusquely, "Would you mind paying attention?"

When the cheerleader didn't look up, the teacher simply stood next to her. "Miss Manning," she snapped, "If you aren't paying attention, the least you could do is tell us what you're writing."

Meg looked up, confused. "Sorry?"

The teacher snagged her notebook from her hands, and flipped around a few pages. She frowned, and then laughed out loud. "Well, this is new…"

Meg blushed furiously. "Honest, I was paying attention, Miss Harding; I was… I was just trying to… I'm sorry!"

The English teacher looked at Meg closely, causing the girl to turn a deeper shade of red. "Meg, would you see me after class?"

This made the rest of the students look up, interested. Goody-two-shoes Meg, in trouble? That was a first…

The bell sounded suddenly, and the rest of the class moved automatically to the door, swinging book bags and herding outside.

Meg bit her lower lip. "Miss Harding, I'm really sorry, it won't happen again. I… I just wanted to finish my thoughts-"

"No, dear," the teacher said, delighted, "Actually, this is a wonderful example…" she laughed heartily, reading a few lines. "Meg, do you have any more ideas like this?"

The cheerleader frowned, confused. "More? But I thought-"

"Meg, this is a great screen play!" Miss Harding told her, enthusiastic. "You took an extraneous idea, and put it in your own words… it's exactly the sort of thing Shakespeare did with Hamlet, with Romeo and Juliet, with the Histories… Meg, would you mind working with me on this?"

"Well, I wasn't… Miss Harding, this was just for fun. I mean- it's private. It's not supposed to be seen by anyone-"

"Nonsense!" The English teacher insisted firmly. "I'd love to work with this. I haven't had this much fun with reading since College. This has a lot of potential… I can practically guarantee you an A if you help me with this."

Meg's eyes went wide. "I'm not in trouble?"

Miss Harding smiled. "Meg, this is good, and I see talent. As a teacher, it's my job and privilege to help that talent develop wherever I see it. You write this, and I'll give you an A+, and write your college recommendation letter… and you won't have to turn homework assignments in for the rest of the year."

Meg stared. "Oh.. um… thanks…" She was obviously puzzled.

Miss Harding smiled. "It's a deal, then? Write this with me, and you get an A+, no homework, and a stellar recommendation letter… and no detention for not paying attention in class."

Meg blushed again, and stammered, "Um, I—yeah, I guess, sure…"

"Shake on it." Miss Harding held out her hand, and Meg shook it timidly.

"Um... I've got to get going; I… am I really not in trouble?"

"Not for now… get going, Meg." The English teacher handed the notebook back. "And keep writing!"

Meg left the room, confused. She went to her locker, and stared at the notebook as she replaced her English book. "What just happened?" she asked her texts. She shook her head, and decided to go with it. After all, what was the worst that could happen?

**Again, please review... let me know what you think, if I've screwed anything up, etc etc.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Miss Harding," the Vice Principal of Neptune High was saying forcefully, "I don't think you understand; they hate each other!"

"Look, haven't you heard the old parable of Androcles and the lion?"

"It isn't a question of them helping each other, it's a problem of, if we have them in the same room and they even pretend to get along, the school will implode… possibly the Universe as we know it, too."

"So? The boosters need a new pet project, anyway!"

"Cristen-"

"Plus, the lockers need a new coat of paint as it is, so why not a new school?"

"Miss Harding-"

"I mean, you can make it whatever you want, plus the insurance'll cover it!"

"That's not-"

"Plus, it'll keep 'em out of trouble- you have no idea how exhausting it is, to play a part that long!"

"MISS HARDING!"

"What?"

"Mr. Echolls recently took a tire iron to Miss Mars's car. What about that screams 'put us in a play together' to you?"

"Rage is a form of passion? If they could redirect it… wait, why a tire iron?"

"It seems that Miss Mars planted a bong in his locker, and his car was taken away."

Cristen laughed. "How could she do that?"

"I'd not sell Miss Mars short, Cristen; she's devilishly sneaky. And at least Echolls knows better than to underestimate her."

"So? She's sneaky, he's ticked… it's perfect for the play!" When he didn't respond, she added, "Please?"

"We'd never get them to agree."

"Of course we would!" she said, laughing, and talking fast to get the point, "From what I've heard, they're both getting into trouble far too often. This is just a way of keeping them busy. You could say that they've had far too many detentions, or that their attitudes are lacking… whatever, school pep. And failing that, you threaten to go to their parents. I'm sure Mr. Echolls would be delighted that we offered Logan a lead in the school play, and Mr. Mars… well, he'd be glad of Veronica's involvement."

"And what do we do if they blow up the auditorium?"

"We sell tickets to the explosion, and hold the play outside."

The Vice Principal groaned.

"You know you want to try this, just to see," Harding added with a grin. "Come on. I've read the play; they'll be perfect. Plus, it was written by one of my students, so it'll be an all-Neptune original production. The tickets will sell like hot-cakes!"

"If they blow up the school," the man answered, his hands over his face, "You're paying the damages."

"If the blow up the school, sir, we might just turn this thing into an annual play." She sauntered out to another groan from the Vice Principal, trying to hide a very un-professional giggle.

It was good to know that she could still convince anyone to do what she needed. It was how she talked her way into a double-major for Theatre and English, how she argued her way into a well-paid position as an English teacher (and Drama coach) at Neptune, and how she just got her way to producing a play on her own.

She looked up thoughtfully. If the school did blow up, it wouldn't be so bad; the place could use a new sky-light.


	4. Chapter 4

Veronica stepped out of her LeBaron, grabbing the strap of her book bag before slamming the door, exasperated. She'd just got her car back from Weevil's cousin, who had worked miracles with the dents left in her car by one Logan Echolls. She'd just programmed the car genius's number into her speed-dial (knowing the propensity of the LeBaron to accumulate flat tires whilst she was away), after his offer to come by and help if she had car troubles again.

She sighed, looking at the trusty vehicle. It did not deserve the punishment she gave it. It deserved a nice, peaceful retirement of old ladies taking it to church once a week. Unfortunately, that was unlikely to happen; the 09'ers were too busy getting off on slitting or letting the air out of her tires… or in the case of Logan, slamming a tire iron into it repeatedly.

The day was not starting off well. Her alarm clock buzzed far too early, dragging her out of a nice dream where Lily was alive, Logan was sweet, Duncan wasn't ignoring her, and everything was, once again, sane. As she was trying to rush out the door, her father had asked her one too many close-call questions for her comfort about investigating Lily's death, and she hadn't had time for coffee… that was what really set her off. No coffee.

The rest of it she could deal with, she had learned to deal with. But the coffee… oh, the coffee…

She saw Wallace waiting up for her at the school's entrance, and sighed in relief. At least she'd have company walking down the halls. She gave a friendly wave as she locked the car, pocketing the keys. "Hey, BFF!" she called, making him smile. She liked smiling Wallace; it was a main-stay in her otherwise tempest-tossed life.

"Whatup?" he answered with a nod.

She sighed theatrically. "Just another average day in Neptune H-"

"VERONICA MARS!"

She winced, and then turned abruptly to scream, "WHAT!?" with more spirit and venom than she intended.

When Wallace raised his eyebrows at her, her only defense was to mumble, "Bad morning, me no have coffee."

"Miss Mars, it seems that you can't even respect authority on a perfectly good morning." The Vice Principal came up with a wan smile. "I think we need to talk."

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed, aghast, "I haven't had _time_ to do anything evil yet… why on earth would you want to ruin a perfectly good day when I haven't even had the chance to screw it up?"

"My office. Now."

"You're gonna make me miss home room," she predicted, wagging a finger at the man, "and you know that can have dire consequences to my education."

"Yet some how, I think it'll survive… my office, Mars."

She groaned, and tromped off towards the said room, after turning to her best friend and pleading caffeine-deprivation-induced insanity.

Mr. Clemmons sat in his chair, and arching his fingers.

"Miss Mars."

She mimicked his gestures. "Mr. Clemmons…" she smirked. She jumped forward abruptly in her chair, and babbled, "Is this about that rumor going round about us? 'Cause I swear, that was all a misunderstanding. I never said you were adorable in bed." She was pleased to see him wince.

"This is about your lack of school spirit."

"Aw, c'mon," she said back, "I have tons of spirit… Go Pirates! Woo!"

"And yet somehow, sarcasm rarely conveys the same meaning… Miss Mars, your record to date has a lot of teachers worried."

Veronica snorted. "Oh, I know- all those straight A's just spell 'High School drop-out turned stripper', right?"

"I was referring to your social record… you know, rumors have a nasty habit of showing up on permanent records… such as, rumor has it that you planted that bong in Logan Echolls' locker."

Veronica's eyes went wide, and she did her best 'innocent' impression. "Wow. You're good." She shook her head. "Oh, come on. I don't even have his combination… and from all the trouble those rumors have caused you, looking into MY locker, I'm really surprised that you even give them any heed."

"Rumor also has it that he smashed up your car in retribution."

"Look outside, Clemmons; my baby is in the parking lot, nary a scratch on her since I drove her here… or there wasn't, this morning."

"Then there's your involvement in the fake ID scam-"

Veronica looked up, faking excitement. "What? Who? There were fake ID's on campus? Aw man, no one ever tells me _anything_!"

"The point, Miss Mars, is that you tend to get yourself into trouble."

Veronica stared at him, slack-jawed. "Who," she asked, her eyes wide, "Me? _Trouble_?"

"Young lady, we take this sort of thing seriously in Neptune High. Now, your more recent escapades have left something to be desired for school involvement."

"Oh, come on! I come to class, which is more than can be said for most-"

"For most students trying to get into Stanford?"

Veronica frowned. "You're blackmailing me? For a college?"

"For the good of the school, I'm trying to convince you to help your self; college applications are rigorously looked into, Miss Mars. I'd imagine that Stanford would be much happier if you had some community involvement, and if I didn't call them to tell them that you had _less_ than average school spirit. I understand that they appreciate enthusiasm in their freshmen."

Veronica glared at him. "I'm in journalism, and I shoot photos for the school paper. I'm involved plenty."

"Stanford might not think so."

"So what am I supposed to do, enroll in home ec and bake brownies for the next bake sale? I'm normally a snickerdoodle kinda girl, but I _guess_ I could branch out."

"We've already selected an activity that suits your talents and personality, Miss Mars."

Veronica faked an excited hand movement, covering a mouth in an 'o' shape. "Omigosh, I get to be Miss America?"

"Even better. You get the female lead in the school play."

Veronica dead-panned. "Say what?"

"You've been compulsorily enrolled in drama, Miss Mars."

"You can't just-"

"Your free period is no longer free."

"But I-"

"There is no discussion, Miss Mars. You can pick up your new schedule with details from my secretary, Miss Jackworth… good morning, Miss Mars."

Shooting the Vice Principal a death glare, Veronica left the office, seething.

Wallace was waiting for her outside. "So, what'd he want?"

"Hell just froze over," Mars answered, shooting another death-glare at the door. "What does that mean to you?"

"You're enrolling in the pep-squad?"

"Oh, Wallace," she mock-flirted, "I know you want to see me in the short skirt, but really!"

"Girl, don't even. Now come on, what'd the man want?"

"I've been compulsorily enlisted in the school drama program."

"No, seriously."

"Seriously. I've been awarded the part of the female lead… you think I should use my southern drawl?" She put the back of her hand to her forehead. "Wha Ah declay-uh, Ah cannat stay-und t'be outta the spot-light for just hardly a'tall!"

Wallace shook his head. "No way… so, what's the part?"

"Apparently, it's a big hush-hush surprise," she answered, rolling her eyes. "All they said was that I was suited for it."

Wallace glanced at her. "So the part's for a white-girl-turned-PI, huh? Can't be too many plays with that motif."

Veronica lightly tapped him on the back of the head. "Thanks a lot, BFF… now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go-" She put on the southern accent again, "Pre-payah!"

Wallace laughed, and shook his head. "Whatever, Super-fly. See you in History."

Veronica nodded. "Later." She stormed off, wondering just how much trouble she'd get into if she planted a stink bomb in Clemmons's car.


	5. Chapter 5

"Drama?" Logan repeated, astounded. "Since when are you in Drama?"

Duncan looked back at his best friend. "Since the beginning of the semester."

"Um… why?" Echolls' tone indicated he thought Duncan was demonstrating early-onset senility.

"Don't be a punk, Logan," Kane said quietly.

Logan snorted, trying hard to keep from laughing. It was a few minutes before he trusted himself to speak. "This, I have to see."

"Don't you have a class?"

"Nah. Open block… are you afraid I'll laugh?"

"What gave it away?" Duncan's eyebrow was raised, and there was an unusual look on his face- as if he were trying to smile.

Logan smiled fully, imitating regret. "DK… you suck at acting. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

Duncan snorted. "Right."

"What?" his friend demanded, feigning innocence.

The class president shook his head. "Whatever, man."

"So, can I come?"

"Like I could stop you?"

Logan grinned. "Nice." He faltered. "Where does Drama meet, anyway?"

"The theatre," Duncan answered as if it were obvious.

Logan stared. "Neptune High has a theatre?" he grinned again. "No way."

The thespian shook his head, rolled his eyes, and walked off.

Seeing his friend's exasperation, Logan couldn't stop grinning as he called after him, "Seriously?"

Duncan was waiting at Logan's locker to see if he was still game. When Echolls approached, Duncan nodded to him. "Logan."

"Hey," the young man answered. He put his English texts in, and quietly closed the door while turning to his best friend. "Duncan, why Drama?"

The shorter boy shrugged. "Mom thought it would help me in politics."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Duncan, for once, why don't you grow a pair and stop doing what Mommy Kane-"

"And I like it."

Logan stopped cold. "Okay, now I definitely have to see this."

"Don't you normally surf or something?"

Logan shrugged. "Yeah, but it's stupid to go into the ocean alone, and Dick got detention or something, so that's out."

"Why don't you ask a girl?"

Logan snorted. "Yeah. Perfect. Just what I need- some surf bunny slowing me down."

"Seriously? You're turning down female companionship? Did you turn into a monk?"

Logan shrugged. "Not exactly. I was figuring that any girl that went with me would only be trying to get into my board shorts, so she'd be dressed to impress. Then, naturally, my eyes would be on her, not the waves, and that's a bad thing." Logan glanced at his Rolex. "What time does your class start, anyway?"

Duncan looked at his own wrist watch, and shook his head. "We have four minutes. You ready?"

Logan shrugged. "I'd hate to be late… or to make you late, but it amounts to the same thing."

Duncan led the way through the corridors of Neptune High, Logan following with a brisk walk to match Kane's pace. The heir to the software company finally nodded at a set of double doors to their right. "There it is… Logan, come on, why-"

Echolls grinned. "We ride together, we die together; bad boys for life."

"Ladies love bad boys," Duncan quipped as they entered the double-doors side-by-side.

As soon as the doors closed behind them, Richard Casablancas called out. "Logan, dude! You're here!"

Echolls' eyebrows raised. "Dick?! What are you doing here- I thought you were in trouble with a teacher."

Dick shrugged. "I did. Miss Harding's a real ball-buster when it comes to skipping class."

"But you surfed with me for a month!"

"And believe me, she noticed."

Logan shook his head, trying to assimilate the new information. "What possessed you to sign up for Drama?"

"Dude, the class list said," he made air quotes, " 'Theatre'. I thought it was a class for watching movies."

Duncan rolled his eyes.

Logan just laughed. "Oh, man, Dick, that is priceless," he told his friend, cracking up. "But… what's keeping you after school?"

Dick grinned. "Well, Miss Harding thinks I have some serious acting chops."

"You butcher the roles?" Logan asked, uncertain.

"Her actual words were, 'if we can pry your mind away from your board'," Duncan answered, " 'You might have a lot of talent.' So, she gave him a part to play."

"In what?" Logan returned, by now, very suspicious.

Duncan shrugged. "The Spring play."

Logan snorted, but Dick confirmed it. "Yeah, dude. Even DK, here, has a part. A pretty big one, too."

"Say it ain't so, Duncan," Logan pleaded, horrified.

Duncan shook his head. "Sorry, Logan. But you've gotta see the logic."

"What logic?" Logan demanded. "I see no logic. Your drama coach made a logic voodoo doll and cut its head off. No logic."

Duncan cleared this throat. "Logan? I'm the Football-playing multi-million-heir class president. Do you know how many people will repeatedly buy tickets just for that?"

Logan looked dubious. "They'll come to see you flub your lines?"

DK shrugged. "I doubt it; I'm already running lines with Dick."

Logan glowered. "Explain."

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "He has a part, Logan. By practicing, we get our lines down."

Logan looked around exaggeratedly. "Okay, I swear I just walked into the twilight zone…" After a moment, he shook his head. "Tinkerbell's going to have a field day with this…"

Duncan frowned. "Who?"

Logan smirked. "Let me try my acting abilities…" He stood silently held up two fingers, and tapped his wrist.

"Two words," Duncan surmised. "…Person…" he watched as Logan pointed to his eyes. "Looks like…"

Logan pointed to Dick. When Duncan shrugged, he yanked on Dick's hair.

"Dude!" the surfer objected.

"Blonde," Dunca guessed.

Logan winked. He held his hands parallel, then made the typical gesture associated with woman, waving his hands farther apart, closer, then farther again.

"Blonde girl," Kane said. "Meg?"

"Madison?" Dick guessed.

Logan held up a finger, and held his had parallel to the ground, palm down, about shoulder-height.

"Blonde," Duncan listed, "Woman, short… any other clues?"

Dick snorted. "Veronica Mars."

Logan gestured at Dick. "He got it," he told Duncan.

Dick looked to his friends with a confused look on his face. "What- no, the skank is here."

The trio turned and watched as the drama teacher entered, talking with the blonde.

Duncan stared. "Is it just me," he asked, clearly remembering Veronica 1.0, "Or is she-"

"Pink," Logan answered, disgusted, "An un-natural, girly, un-Veronica _pink_."

Pink, she was. The girl that walked towards them was a direct throwback to the Veronica they knew years ago. Her pale hair was in pigtails with pink ties, matching her blouse- a tight-cut, carnation-pink concoction with ruffles splashed into the v-neck. This was under-played by a denim skirt that ended about 6" above her knees.

"Gentlemen," Logan spoke, "I'd like to resubmit my twilight zone theory."

Neither Dick nor Duncan answered. They could hear Veronica talk to Harding as the pair approached.

"Veronica," Miss Harding said, "You were chosen for a reason."

"I get that," the blonde answered, "Honestly, I do. But I'm asking you to please rethink, Miss H. I mean, not only do I stink at acting, but the part's all wrong for my personality. It's just a bad fit, Miss Harding."

The teacher sighed, disappointed. She opened her mouth, then shut it, frowning. "Would you wait a moment, Veronica? I have to go play teacher…" The brunette walked quickly off to the stage.

As soon as Harding left, Logan spoke up. "What's wrong, Mars? Left your clothes in your pimp's car?"

Veronica turned to the 09'ers, her usual smirk in place. "AH, the three Musketeers… Logan, Dick, finally coming out of the closet, I see… you guys do know you lose major Man points by being in theatre, right?" Her mannerism was juxtaposed against her appearance, leaving the trio slightly stunned.

"Well, Mars, DK and Dick are the only Thespians present. I'm here purely in spectator capacity."

"The orientation statement still stands… I can't say as I'm surprised; you must have run out of STD-infected girlfriends, by now."

"Clearly, that's not true; you're still here."

"Sorry, Echolls. I have a strict policy against dating sociopathic bigots."

"If you ever return to sanitary sanity, that might change."

"Again, Logan, sorry, I pled insanity after dating Duncan. Because said ex is a jerk who broke my heart for no reason," she continued, sparing a glance for the class president, "And stood idly by while you," she returned her gaze to the actor's son, "made my life Hell-in-High-School, the DA didn't contest it; I get out after serving my time in Neptune High prison."

Echolls's eyes narrowed. "So, Veronica, are you serving consecutive or concurrent terms for the prostitution charges?"

Veronica smirked. "I forget. But what did you get for your man-whore conviction? And were you tried before or after you were declared a Menace to society?"

Logan chuckled darkly. "No, no, Ronnie; you've got your dates all messed-up and confused again. It's probably due to the Syphilis. I hear you go insane at the end… my trial's next week."

Veronica sighed and nodded, as if accepting defeat. When Logan began to grin, she spoke up suddenly. "Again, sorry, Logan. You've had so many trials, I have a hard time keeping the straight. This time must be for Willful Public Endangerment and Menace to Society. Which one is for the glare from that banana you call a car?"

"I leave those details to my lawyer. He said I might see you in the courthouse, too. Vehicular homicide, is it?"

"Logan, those Chlamydia meds must be making you loopy; I was just subpoenaed to testify against you. I guess the DA decided to add Destruction of Private Property to the docket, after all."

Just as Veronica got that zinger out, the sound of enthusiastic applause broke out behind them. "Great!" Miss Harding exclaimed brightly. Veronica winced, realizing that her act was ended. "You two positively spark together! Veronica, I must say, you had me worried with that pink cheerleader routine, but it's a great testimony to your acting skills! And Logan! We'll have to work with you a bit to make it believable, but the raw chemistry between you two is phenomenal! Instant chemistry with my two leads0 amazing! It'll just make the Romantic Comedy!"

"Miss Harding?" Veronica broke in, alarmed, "Bad idea. Very bad idea. The chemistry you're talking about is the same stuff they used in Hiroshima, Hirojima, Moab and Chernoble. Believe me, you don't want that chemistry."

"For once," Logan added his voice, "I agree. It's a bad idea to the degree of universal implosion. But more than that, it's not going to happen. I'm not in Drama."

Veronica sighed in relief. "There is a God," she declared happily, "And He loves me!"

Logan was kept from commenting when Miss Harding spoke up. "Logan… Vice Principal Clemmons was supposed to inform you, you've been scheduled for drama. Didn't you meet with him?"

Logan shook his head. "No, but rest assured, I will." He stormed out of the theatre, headed voluntarily for the Vice Principal's office.

"What's why I love Neptune," Harding stated to the room at large. "So much drama!"

"Yeah," Veronica assented, "Drama, we got. But who'd be dumb enough to add to it?"

Harding glanced at the tiny blonde. "Careful, Veronica. Whomever authored this might add a kiss between yourself and Mr. Echolls into the script."

Veronica snorted. "Yeah, right, NO one at Neptune High is That stupid."

Miss Harding chuckled. "Really?"

DK turned to Dick. "Universal implosion in 5…4…3…2…1…


	6. Chapter 6

Logan stormed back into the theatre, past Veronica. As she opened her mouth to ask, he stopped abruptly, pointed at her and spoke menacingly, "Not. One. Word, Mars. So help me, not _one_ word."

She held her hands up defensively, and allowed him to pass by without comment.

Echolls stopped in front of Ms. Harding, "Congratulations. I'm now officially in Hell, and your devious scheme was sanctioned by my father. But lady, I really don't want to be here. So, please, don't expect me to try too hard. Okay?"

Cristen just smiled at him. "Well, Mr. Echolls, I'm just glad you've joined us. Please, find a seat." She gestured at the circle of chairs onstage. She glared at the class in the audience seats. "That goes for everybody; we're reading, people!"

A few misguided souls let out whoops of enthusiasm, undiminished by the looks of evil sent their way by the tiny blonde detective and entrapped Echolls heir.

As Veronica passed by Logan on her way to the stage, he tugged at her elbow. Veronica looked up at him, raising one eyebrow. "Okay, I realize I'm in attire that normally would not grace my wardrobe. However, if you think you can paw me like those brainless-"

"Mars," Logan said quietly, "look, I really can't be here… if there's one thing I don't want to be in life, it's my father."

She snorted. "Echolls, unless you sign contracts to make some movies with very questionable dialogue carried on special effects and a name, I think you're okay… besides, Daddy dearest is a movie actor. Remember? He told me himself that he couldn't cut it on a real stage. Shakespeare, he is not."

Logan growled, and ground his teeth. "Fine, just… whatever. Shut up, alright?" He released her elbow, and stormed in front of her up the stage.

"Careful, Logan," Veronica taunted, traipsing behind him. "If your dialogue lapses any more, critics may just believe you're as clever as I know you are."

The look Logan sent the tiny blonde would have made the leader of the PCH motorcycle gang back off.

Veronica frowned. "Logan…" she said quietly, realizing that he wasn't playing the part of jester. This serious Logan was a rare creature and meant that he was really affected.

"Mars," he said in abrupt, quiet tones, "Don't. Don't you dare. Don't start pulling your punches now."

Veronica frowned. Clearly, her one-time friend and long-time enemy wanted some form of normalcy. "Fine," she said in the same manner, "Call it professional courtesy…" She took a deep breath, and spoke again, in a voice that wouldn't carry. "Did you manage to learn anything actually interesting or useful while you went tete-a-tete with the Vice Principal?"

"Mars, unlike you, I am not Mata Hari."

"Funny," she stated, dead-pan. "I mean, did he actually divulge anything we need to know?"

"Like what? If Harding can be killed with silver bullet or stake?"

"I like your way of thinking, but no. I mean, what manner of torture are we subjected to in this mockery of free will. Is the play a drama? History? Thriller? Do I get to stab you repeatedly with whatI'll _assure_ law enforcement officers I thought was a collapsible dagger?"

"I doubt it. Clemmons said something about a romantic comedy."

Veronica's face blanched, and her eyes widened.

"Whatsa matter, Mars? You forgot your-"

"Logan," she interrupted, "as much as I'd like your usual witless, baseless, base and hypocritical repartee regarding my sexual practices, this is more dire. You do know what a romantic comedy is, right?"

Logan shrugged. "I saw one once, fell asleep halfway through. But I vaguely recall cheesy plot lines, and second-rate dialogue."

"Okay, for the remedial class, I'll outline why this is bad. We are the leads. Romantic comedies are ruled by the 3 G's."

"Guns, guts, and gratuitous sex?"

"That's an action movie. Romantic comedies rely on this line: Guy Gets the Girl." She let sink in what she meant, waiting for the male lead to start freaking out. She was both impressed and alarmed when Logan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then smiled. "…did you by any chance just have a brain hemorrhage?"

"Mars… let's make a deal. Once we find out who's responsible for our humiliation, we take them down. I'm in charge of social ruin, you focus on the practical voodoo you do so well."

Veronica raised her eyebrows. "How could I do that?" she responded, her eyes wide with faux innocence.

"Use your imagination… just don't put a bong in their locker; I'd be hurt if you used a repeat prank."

"…me? Would I do something like that?"She glanced at her pinkness. "Do _I _look like I'm capable of a horrible, all-consuming destruction of all things practical?"

Logan smirked. "The pink cheerleader routine, while disgustingly saccharine, doesn't fool me. Your horns are holding up your halo, Mars." His voice volume had risen slightly, and the two fell easily into their habit of mutual mockery.

"Odd. Here, I thought _you_ were the horny one!"

"Why Ronnie, of _course_ I am. You stole my halo _years _ago. I've got nothing to balance my devilish charm."

"I always knew you were unbalanced."

"Oh, come on!" one of the girls- a short-haired brunette with violently pink streaks broke in. "If I have to hear you two flirting-"

Dick laughed. "Ghost-world, you are seriously out of it! Those two are, like, Darth Vader and Luke!" He thought a moment. "Only Ronnie's, like, Vader's mini-me."

"Dick, there are so many things wrong with that!" the 'ghost world' girl insisted, glaring up at the 6-foot-something surfer. "But the only one I can sue you over is, my name is Mac. Mac! One syllable! It ought to be easier for you to remember than your lines, anyway. Again, Mac; not ghost-world."

The surfer glared back down at Mac. "Dude, chica! Just because you play my wife doesn't mean that you have to nag at me all day!"

Duncan snorted. "If the married peanut gallery would please tone down the character exercises, we're about to start reading."

"Sweet!" Dick exclaimed, heading towards his seat and dragging the tiny Mac behind him, the girl barely keeping on her feet.

Veronica stared at the sight, amazed. "Um… why is Dick hanging out with a non-09'er? Anyone?"

"Harding's orders," Meg spoke up, handing Veronica a script. "She saw that Dick was being a jerk to Mac—big surprise, right?—so she threatened to do irreparable damage to his surf-board and flunk him so hard, he wouldn't graduate for another two years if he didn't hang out with her, and 'get in character'. They even run lines, now. It's getting interesting… and now that the impossible has been shown as possible in theatre, good money is that your and Logan's sparks will ignite the stage."

"I think the question," Veronica responded as Meg handed scripts to Duncan, "is, will they find any evidence of whosever brains were behind this drastic casting decision."

Meg shrugged. "It's make-or-break for the casting decision, I guess."

"My money's on the latter."

"I don't know, Veronica," Meg said with a small smile. "This script was, literally, written for you and Logan. Give it a try. You might like it."

"Meg… you know that Logan and I are at each other's throats as soon as we're within maiming distance. Didn't you think it was a bad idea when you heard it?"

"Honestly? When the script came to me, the first thing I thought of was the flames that ignited around you and Logan when you were friends. As Ms. Harding says, you two have chemistry. The way you take the time to insult each other as best as possible, the tense way both of you remark on each others' love lives… maybe the script writer saw that, had an idea, and ran with it. You've got to admit, you two are suggestive, Veronica."

The tiny blonde was speechless.

"Mars!" Logan shouted from a circle of chairs upstage, "Time to rain down Hell on the theatre gods for casting us together!"

Meg smiled. "Just so you know, I'm rooting for you, Veronica."

"Meg," Veronica said gently, "I say this with respect, compassion, and friendship. I think you need a CT-scan."

Meg grinned. "You should have heard what Vice Principal Clemmons told Miss Harding when she stated the casting decision. He agreed with you, but he didn't temper his expression of it."

"…so, why cast us?"

Meg shrugged. "Probably because you two _are_ the play; it was _written_ for you. And Harding decided she wanted to do something other than 'Grease'."

Veronica sighed. "I'd rather see you as Sandy than me as… what's my character's name?"

"The original script had your name being Katerina. Now…"

Veronica flipped through the pages. She glanced up at Meg. "I think there's a typo; it calls me 'Veronica'."

Meg sighed. "Tell you what. Let's just get through the first reading. If it doesn't flow, we'll talk together to Miss Harding, okay?"

"Mars!" Logan demanded from the circle, "If I have to endure this torture, you sure as hell are going to suffer too!"

Veronica snorted as she stormed her way to the back of the lit hardwood stage. 'Wouldn't Miss Moraguchi be proud?' she thought of her kindergarten teacher. 'She always thought I was a great actor when our class played 'The Three Billy Goats Gruff'… ' She pulled up a chair from the wings, and was about to sit down when Harding cleared her throat. Veronica looked up. "Yes?"

"Class rule," Duncan supplied with a grimace. "Character couples sit together to read."

"Character…" Veronica repeated, and groaned as she spotted her seat—smack in between Duncan and Logan. "Why," she demanded, changing seats and sulking, "does God hate me?"

"…spawn of Hell, ring any bells?" Logan suggested.

"Logan, your being the spawn of Hell shouldn't affect me," Veronica answered without thinking it through, looking again through her papers.

Echolls sighed. "Would you at least put some mental energy into it?" he complained, his script crackling as he folded the papers back. "Your lack of insight in insults insults me."

"…said the man that started with a daily harassment routine of pregnancy, delinquency, and depravity? Logan, if you're going to complain, don't be such a hypocrite. You haven't put any serious effort into insulting me for months, now. If anyone expresses disappointment, it should be me."

"You would know."

A terse silence settled over the theatre group. Mars and Echolls looked up, and found their fellow thespians staring at them. Synchronously, the two teens demanded, "What?"

Dick turned to Mac. "How much to get into the pool?"

The computer geek smirked. "$50 buy-in."

"I didn't hear that," Harding volunteered, folding her own script copy back to the first page. "Alright, everybody, Act one, Scene one. I'm narrator. Veronica? Are you ready?"

Veronica shot her new teacher a glare-o-death before quickly flipping the pages to the required spot.

Harding cleared her throat, and began reading. "Passion. Mistakes. They tend to go hand in hand, especially in a town on the coast of California…"


	7. Chapter 7

Veronica groaned, and collapsed onto the sofa of Mars Investigations. She lay down, and flung an arm over her eyes with a sigh.

Hearing the unmistakable theme of teenage angst, Keith Mars called out, "Honey? You here?"

"Yeah, Dad," the blonde answered, not moving her arm. "I'm here."

Keith left his office, and sat on the coffee table next to his daughter. "Hey, glad you're here… What kept you? Detention again?"

"Worse," she answered, finally removing her arm from her face, "I've been compulsorily enrolled in the school play." She expected her father to be sympathetic, to be shocked at the occurrence, to write a note allowing her to skip out of drama (or turn his head while she forged one)… she did not expect his amazement and enthusiasm which followed her announcement.

"Wow… and you're not happy about it? Why, are you a tree in this play?"

"Oh, no, tree would be good. I'd like being a tree. I could prop up the costume, then, and escape. But noooo…"

"…so… what's the problem?"

"I'm the lead."

Keith jumped up, knelt down, and hugged Veronica. "Honey, I'm so proud of you!"

The tiny blonde remained stock-still, her eyes wide. "Um, Dad? You're scaring me."

"Veronica, you're the lead! This is fantastic." He pulled back, and frowned. "You got the lead. Why aren't you finding this fantastic?"

"Um… maybe because I wasn't volunteering; I was voluntold."

"My daughter? Voluntold? Did Neptune High get taken over by the army?"

"Worse; a drama teacher."

"A drama teacher took over the school?" Keith said, skepticism clear in his tone.

"Okay, maybe not the entire school, but she hijacked the drama department-"

"That may have something to do with her being a drama teacher," Keith pointed out sardonically.

"_And_ she made Vice Principal Clemmons change my schedule so my open block is spent in Drama."

"I have yet to hear justification to a call to the ACLU."

Veronica glared at him. "He threatened to call Stanford and blackball my admissions process."

"Now, this is interesting. How did he pull that off?" Keith raised an eyebrow in amused interest.

"He'd tell them I didn't have sufficient extracurricular activities, and that I was less than a sparkly, happy, cheerleader-type student."

"Huh. And this is a threat because…?"

"Mainly? I really want to get into a good school with a great scholarship, and unless I…" she stalled, and a scheming look crossed her face.

The former sheriff rarely received portends of evil, but Veronica's expression clearly preceded someone's doom. "Honey? Are you thinking about something I shouldn't know about?"

"Oh, no, just planning to gather information…"

"Veronica…" Keith said warningly.

In her familiar manner of mock-innocence, the tiny blonde answered, her eyes wide and sparkling with mischief, "Dad, it's completely in the realm of school spirit; one goes to school to learn new information, after all."

"Veronica, the solution to blackmail is very rarely blackmail… and what if Stanford finds out you quit drama?"

"I didn't-- Wait… you're supporting this insanity?"

"I support you, and your education, and you getting into a good college… all of which will be hampered by you quitting for the first time in your life."

"I'm not quitting!" She objected.

"Glad to hear it." Keith answered before she could explain that she hadn't taken it up. "I look forward to seeing you Opening Night."

"Dad-"

"I'm proud of you, sweetheart," he told her, dropping a kiss on her head before heading back into his office.

Veronica groaned again, and pulled out her cell phone. She hit a few buttons, and made a call. "Wallace?" she talked into the phone, "promise me that you won't laugh…"


	8. Chapter 8

Veroncia groaned into the couch cushions as she lay prone, cradled by rough fabric and foam.

"You better not be droolin' on my Mom's sofa," Wallace said bluntly, moving her legs to sit down. "I spill water and she notices. Drool, that would get me grounded. And you know you need me to get you files."

Veronica groaned again.

"What?" Wallace asked, curious that his friend had no smart remark.

Veronica tilted her head slightly and enunciated, "I think God hates me."

"Finally," Fernell exclaimed, "twelve years of Sunday School pays off… God doesn't hate you. He loves you." His statement was definite; partly rehearsed, but definitely believed.

"If he loved me, he would not put me in a play, Wallace, much less this one."

"Yeah, about that, what's so horrible? Someone likes you enough to write a play for you, and you think it's a sign of divine detestation."

The blonde made a guttural sound.

"Hey, do that again, you sound like Chewbacca," Fernell teased.

"Don't mock the wookie," she advised him in deadpan. "Seriously, though. God allows crap to the n'th magnitude to rain down on my life, sticks me in a play with people that would walk over my corpse and kick it for half a stick of chewing gum…stop me when you feel the love."

"But V… you're still here. You're still fighting. Whatever you went through, look, I'm sure it was its own corner of Hell. But.. you're here. And yeah, you're angry, and you're bitter, and you are stuck in a play that you'd probably be happy never existed." He snorted. "As twisted as it is, I'm glad you went through what you did. If you hadn't, I might still be stuck on that flag pole, and not consoling my best friend because she got the lead in a play—literally, without trying. Do you know how many 09'er girls would kill to be you?"

Veronica snorted at that, and the corner of her mouth involuntarily raised.

"Ha, see?" Wallace insisted, pointing, "You're smiling."

"Tell anyone," she responded, "and you'll never have another snickerdoodle."

"Deal," he agreed. "You know, you seemed stunned over the phone. What else happened?"

Veronica blew at the hair impeding her vision, stalling. "You know that cliché, desperate times call for desperate measures?"

"…why did a cold chill just run down my spine?"

"Because you're sitting near a vent?"

"That ain't it."

"Okay… I wasn't the only draftee to the play."

"You told me about your ex, and that girl Mac hanging out with Dick."

"Yeah… did I mention that it's a romantic comedy?"

"Yeah, then you hung up… what's so bad about a chick-flick play? I mean, it's cheesy, but I'll be there opening night to show my support."

"And I love you for it. But Wallace… I didn't tell you who the male lead is."

"It's not Duncan?"

"Nope."

"Okay, since it's not king of the 09'ers, who exactly are you flirting with in front of the entire drama department of Neptune High?"

"Logan."

"Logan…Logan…" After two false starts, you could see the moment of clarity behind Fernell's wide eyes. "Logan _Echolls_? The man in whose locker a bong just so mysteriously appeared, Logan? The same guy that swore vengeance, took out your headlights with a tire iron, and would rather get pulverized than apologize…. Does he have a good twin somewhere?"

"People have been wondering that for years."

"I'm beginning to agree with you; just what did you do to piss off a loving God?"

"I dunno; you'd think I'd remember something that big."

"Psh," he agreed and nodded.

"Anyway, to get back to the desperate measures-"

"Wait, I thought the thing with Logan-"

"Oh, no, that was just the jumping-off point."

"Which is, of course, a metaphorical term," Wallace tagged on.

"I'll keep that in mind," she answered with a smile. "Anyway, when we found out which part he plays, he and I kinda came to an agreement."

Wallace jumped up, ran to a window, and stared outside.

"What's up?" Veronica demanded, her PI instincts kicking into gear.

Wallace shook his head. "Just looking for flying barnyard animals."

"Hey, I didn't finish my story," she complained. "It does eventually make sense."

Wallace shrugged, willing to take her word on faith. "So, what makes this alleged sense? He doesn't try anything stupid and you won't destroy him?"

"Even better and a lot more in character; it's a mutual aggression pact."

Visions of the bikini island tests danced in Wallace's head. "That doesn't sound good."

"We're temporarily joining forces against whatever poor deluded soul thought it might be fun for us to be romantically involved in any way, shape, or form."

"Okay, the world makes sense again." He smiled slightly, resuming his seat next to Veronica. "Do I get to see Papa Mars threaten your new guy with a sawed-off shot-gun? Or is that just when rehearsals start?"

"Wallace, no. I'm still campaigning for the power of suggestion in the play."

"Back to the world ending…"

"Well, I figure if I play my cards right, the curtain'll close before I have to lock lips with him."

Wallace nodded. "I vote for the non-apocalyptic one."

"Yeah…" she sighed, and leaned back into the couch. "I just need to find out who wrote it."

"The play?"

"Yeah. A person like that is a menace to society…" she grinned evilly. "I think this deserves a unique Mars touch."

"…just a thought here, Veronica. They could be innocent, and being used."

Veronica snorted. "Then they need an MRI; they changed my character's name, Wallace."

"To what?"

"Veronica."

Wallace thought a moment. "This calls for coffee, doesn't it?" At the blonde's nod, he sighed, and raised himself from the cushions. "One all-night plotting session, comin' up."

"You are the best friend ever!" she declared, sinking back into the couch. _'But the question remains_,' she told herself, '_who's our Shakespeare_?'


End file.
